Lost in Confusion
by Machacho1
Summary: John finds out about Sherlock's sister. What happens when she gets kidnapped and the truth comes out? Trigger Warnings. I do not (nor have I ever) owned Sherlock, only own my OC


_**Lost in Confusion**_

John stormed up the stairs of 221b Baker Street and into the kitchen of the flat he shared with his best friend, Sherlock. "I'm so angry I could kiss you" he shouted as Sherlock squeezed some red dye onto an eyeball. "What was that?" Sherlock asked, obviously not listening. "Uh, I said I'm so angry I could... piss... glue?" he said, trying to cover up the embarrassing statement he had not meant to reveal. "Huh, I've never heard that before." He said as he filled the kettle up with water and put it onto boil. "Yes, well, it's a fairly common expression." John replied nervously, forgetting why he was mad in the first place. Wait, now he remembered.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me!" he shouted as Sherlock put the milk back in the fridge, "Tell you what?" he asked, spinning around to face his flatmate who was leaning on the table, looking angry. "That you had a sister!" Sherlock walked calmly into the living room and sat on the couch. "John, please sit down." John walked over from the kitchen table to the armchair opposite Sherlock and studied his face with great detail. "Well? Can you explain why you never told me?" John asked, sounding annoyed. "I, uh, I forgot?" Sherlock answered back with a fake pleading smile on his face. "Nice try, Sherlock. Don't avoid the question." Sherlock stopped smiling and put on a confused face, "Hold on a second, how did you find out?" John sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, apparently your sister's in prison again. Tell me about her and explain why you never told me." Sherlock picked up the newspaper on the table next to him, "Prison? I thought she was getting better? I guess we'll have to visit her soon." John got up and moved to the door, put on his jacket and chucked Sherlock's over for him to put on. "Come on then, visiting times start at 10." He said looking at his watch.

Sherlock couldn't help but feel nervous, meeting his sister for the first time in years while being watched carefully by guards that were standing-by just in case, and worst of all he was here with John. Not that he didn't want to be with John, he liked John in ways even he didn't understand but it didn't feel right, John meeting Sherlock's sister. "Look," Sherlock said, breaking the ongoing silence. "I never told you about her because she didn't want to know me, so I put her out of my mind, OK?" John looked at him out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock was squeezing a stress ball in his hand, and maybe this was too soon. "What's her name?" John asked. "Olivia, Olivia Holmes. She's 15 years old, always been trouble." Sherlock revealed, still looking at the gate. John looked down at his hands resting on the cold, shiny metal tables and started making bored sounding noises. An alarm sounded a few minutes later, John saw Sherlock jump slightly which was unusual because Sherlock always knew what was going to happen. The gate opened and one by one, the prisoners in handcuffs shuffled out looking for their loved ones, a man with scars running from his left eye down to the corner of his mouth sat down at the table next to the pair. A woman with lots of tattoos walked past them to the table behind, and another man walked up to one of the guards and talked to him quietly in a corner. "Ah, there she is," Sherlock said, looking over to the gate. John followed his gaze and set eyes upon a messy-haired, shot-eyed woman, Sherlock waved her over to the table.

"Hello Sherly," she said in a light-hearted tone. "Hello Olivia," he replied in a dull voice. "This isn't funny, mother said you had to stop this." He hissed. "Oh Sherly, always the first to criticise, I bet you can't figure out what exactly I have done." John looked at Sherlock who opened and closed his mouth several times. "Don't call me Sherly." John was surprised that Sherlock couldn't figure her out, maybe there was someone smarter than Sherlock, he thought. Olivia turned his attention to John who hadn't moved or even said a single word since she had sat down. "Who's this?" she snorted, John opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock interrupted, "John this is Olivia, Olivia this is John. We're flatmates." He said as she lifted her hands and looked at her grubby nails. "I'm going to have to get a manicure, how's my hair?" She asked with no interest in what Sherlock had said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and adjusted the collar on his jacket, "John, would you mind getting us some tea?" he asked, he kept his eyes directed at Olivia. "Sure," he replied, getting up. Once John was out of earshot, Sherlock leaned forwards and placed his arms on the table with his hands clenched together. "So, Olivia, my favourite sister–" Olivia cut him off. "I'm your _only_ sister so don't try playing that card." She could read him like an open book but he couldn't read her, the one advantage of having an older brother is that he's always the one coming to help, although sometimes Olivia doesn't need it but right now she does. "You want to know what I did. What if I told you I didn't do anything and that I was being set-up?" Sherlock leaned back in his chair, "I wouldn't believe you." He said, nothing she ever says is true, so why believe her now? "See, that's your problem, you don't trust me or believe anything I say." Sherlock was going to argue back but the alarm sounded again, the prisoners had to go back to their cells. "Just bail me out, please?" Olivia pleaded, standing up. Sherlock walked out of the room, saying nothing, he didn't even look back at her.

"Thank you," Sherlock said as he collected several different forms from the prisons reception. As he turned around he almost pushed John over. "What are you doing?" he asked as he stepped back to avoid getting hit in the face, his hands were behind his back and he was standing like a soldier. "I was collecting forms for Olivia's release." John was actually quite surprised. "You've bailed her out then?" Sherlock folded up the copied and completed forms and put them in his jacket pocket. "Well, yes John, obviously." As they walked out of the main doors a police car pulled up and the person inside rolled down the window, it was Detective Inspector Lestrade. "Sherlock, John, got a case down on Oxford Street, you in?" he said, beckoning them into the car. John let Sherlock continue. "Maybe, we are busy right now, but you might want to look for Moriarty." Lestrade looked at Sherlock and then at John who shrugged his shoulders, the DI sighed heavily, rolled up the window and drove off down the street. Sherlock can be such a drama queen sometimes, but John and him are friends, although did John wish they'd be more than friends, he felt there was something more between them except John knew Sherlock didn't feel the same way. "Come on, let's get some coffee." Sherlock said, John realised they were half way down the street and standing outside a cafe. "What about the case though?" John said as they walked inside. "That can wait; I want to find out what my sister has done." Once he set his mind on something, he wouldn't give up until he found out the truth.

After Sherlock had spent hours on the computers at the cafe and taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi, the pair caught a taxi back to the flat. When they walked through the door Mrs Hudson was dusting the ornaments on the fireplace. "Mrs Hudson, get out we have work to do." Sherlock said ungratefully, John looked over at the landlady and gave her an apologetic look as she left through the door and made her way to her own flat below. Sherlock had jumped onto the couch, opened his laptop and started tapping away at the keyboard; John was behind him, watching over his shoulder. Sherlock could feel John's breath on the back of his neck, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. "What are you looking for?" he asked. "I'm tracing where Olivia has been in the last couple of days." Sherlock said, John moved to sit next to him. "I'm sorry." He said. John thought he had said something else and was surprised. "What? Your sorry? What for?" John quizzed, the unexpected show of emotion had slightly off-balanced himself. "For saying that," John was now confused, what had Sherlock said? He thought to himself. "Saying what? You never said anything." Sherlock looked out of the window. "Right, I never said any of that out loud. OK, good." Sherlock placed the laptop on the coffee table and stood up, "What were you going to say?" John asked with a worried look on his face, Sherlock didn't reply instead he picked up his violin and started to play. When Sherlock plays the violin he won't talk for hours or even days because it helps him to think, John gave up and let out a frustrated sigh as he walked into his own bedroom. Sherlock wished he could tell John how he feels, and John wished he could tell Sherlock how he feels.

A while later Sherlock's phone rang, he picked it up almost immediately. The caller ID read 'Blocked' but he answered it anyways. "Who is this and why are you bothering me?" A voice replied, a man's voice with a familiar tone. "Oh Sherlock, I'm sorry. Are you too busy to help your sister?" Sherlock spun around so fast that his cup of tea smashed onto the floor, John came out of his bedroom in an instant to find out what happened. "Who is this?!" Sherlock shouted into the phone, he could hear shouting and screaming in the background. "You've forgotten me already? Oh Sherlock, I thought you would have remembered my voice, disappointing. Did you miss me?" Bastard, it's Moriarty. "Moriarty, you touch one hair on my sisters head and I will not hesitate to shoot you." He threatened. Sherlock had not noticed John standing, watching. "Well, you'll have to find me first wont you?" he teased and hung up. Sherlock threw his phone against the wall and the battery popped out and the inside cracked. "John, pass me your phone." John took his own phone out of his jean pocket and chucked it over to Sherlock who typed in a number, before John could ask Sherlock was talking. "Mycroft, Olivia's been taken," he said, putting on his coat. "Yes, I know. Mycroft..." John could tell Mycroft wasn't happy, in fact John could hear shouting down the other end of the phone. "YES! OK!" Sherlock shouted opening the door with his free hand, John followed. "MYCROFT! SHUT UP! It was not my fault!" he hissed. "Yes. Moriarty," more shouting can be heard. "Look, we'll be round in a second." Sherlock hung up and handed the phone back to John, their hands touched for a moment and Sherlock's face felt like it was burning as he went to hail a taxi.

After an hour of uncomfortable and awkward silence in the taxi, the duo finally arrived at Mycroft's workplace, barging past his PA and walked straight into the office where Mycroft was sitting behind his desk and speaking on the phone. "Right, get straight onto that, I must go, my idiotic brother is here." He put down the phone and offered Sherlock and John a seat, neither of them sat down. "Fine, are you going to tell me what happened?" he said, giving Sherlock a dirty look. "Well, it's simply really. She was kidnapped by Moriarty." Sherlock replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Mycroft was beginning to get annoyed. "Don't be smart Sherlock, it doesn't suit you." Sherlock had changed his stance and John was standing like a soldier, hands behind his back. John hadn't been able to say anything since they arrived. "I don't appreciate the fact that you talk about me to your co-workers." He spat, Mycroft pressed a button on the phone at his desk. "Anthea, cancel all my appointments for today and tomorrow," Anthea is Mycroft's Personal Assistant. "Yes sir, right away." Sherlock and John were sitting down at this point, "Sherlock, tell me what happened right from the beginning." Sherlock opened his mouth, and then hesitated. John saw from the corner of his eye that Sherlock was thinking things over. "Well," he began, Mycroft and John were both looking at him, he continued. "John came back to the flat and insisted we visit Olivia in prison, and she said she hadn't done anything wrong, I bailed her out and went back to the flat, and now I'm here." He explained, he started rolling a pen on the desk which was unusual. John noticed he was acting like a child and not his usual self-centred personality. "Do you know what she had or had not done?" Mycroft asked. "No, she never said," John could tell Sherlock was lying, obviously Mycroft (even though they're brothers) couldn't. "Two days," John whispered, Mycroft and Sherlock turned to look at him. "Sorry, what was that?" Mycroft inquired, adjusting the keyboard on the desk. John cleared his throat. "You only cancelled your appointments for today and tomorrow, that's only two days. Your sister has just been kidnapped yet you don't cancel _all_ your appointments? I thought you loved her but ONLY TWO DAYS?!" he shouted, John stood up and, with a look of disgust, left the building, followed closely by Sherlock. "I'm sorry about that, I'm just so annoyed." Sherlock never said anything, he just kept following along.

Mrs Hudson was waiting at the bottom stair of the flat. "Boys, you're back. There's a woman in the flat, she insisted she wait for you Sherlock. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop-" She was cut short. Sherlock jumped up the stairs two at a time and burst into the flat. "OLIVIA?" he shouted with uncertainty. A woman came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with 3 cups of tea on it. "Hey brother," She replied in a calm, quiet voice. "Oh Olivia, I am so glad you're okay!" Sherlock said as he moved closer to Olivia. "Don't come near me." She said strictly, Sherlock looked hurt and confused. "Why not? What's happened? Olivia, what's he done?" Sherlock dared to move closer. "SHERLOCK! I said stay there." John put his hand on Sherlock's arm, a burning sensation Sherlock wasn't familiar with ran up his arm and shot down his spine, John felt it too. Sherlock shrugged John's hand off and the sensation disappeared. "Olivia, tell me what happened." Olivia put the tray down on the table and proceeded to unzip her jacket, unveiling a bulky vest of wires and white packages. John looked at Sherlock, his mouth dropped open and his eyes full of rage. "John, call Mycroft and tell him she's here and she's okay but we might need the Bomb Squad." Olivia was on the verge of tears, she didn't want to die so young and blow up her older brother whom she loved so much. She had an earpiece inserted in her ear so that Moriarty can hear everything she said and know every move she takes. "Sherlock, I have only got 2 minutes and then I have to go outside, but Sherlock, I-" She sighed, Sherlock had to resist all temptations of running over and hugging her. "Yes?" he asked, she let out a breath and gave a small chuckle. "Sherlock, I love you. Tell Mycroft I love him too." She laughed quietly. "I will, I love you too sister." Olivia walked forward and kissed Sherlock on the cheek and smiled at John as she left. A single tear ran down Sherlock's cheek but before John noticed this show of weakness he ran into his bedroom and locked the door with a click.

"Sherlock? Are you OK in there? You've been in there for hours" John shouted through the door. "Go away. I'm busy." He shouted weakly. "Alright, you have to come out soon though." No reply came, John went through to the kitchen when his phone rang. "Hello?" he answered, it was an unknown number. "Hello Johnny boy, I want to speak to Sherlock, is he still alive?" This call was the weirdest ever. "Why wouldn't he be alive? Who is this?" he asked confusedly. "Shame, I thought he would have given in and killed himself, you know, because of his sister and what not." The man on the phone cackled to himself, John knew who it was. "Moriarty, what do you want?" he despised Moriarty with a burning hatred ever since John was snatched by him and tortured. "Johnny boy, I've already told you what I want," he explained. "I want to talk with Sherlock." John walked back to Sherlock's bedroom and banged on the door. "What do you want John?!" Sherlock forgot the door was locked and, with brute force, slammed the door open. John was speechless as he handed the phone over, Sherlock's eyes were red raw and bloodshot. "I-It's Moriarty," He stuttered, he had never seen Sherlock like this before, never seen his weakness or any emotion as a matter of fact, but now John knew that Sherlock's weakness was his sister. "What do you want?" Sherlock asked Moriarty in a calm, careful voice. "Oh darling, don't be like that." Moriarty teased. "Moriarty, I don't have time for this." Sherlock was growing impatient every second, John could see a lot of files and papers on the floor and spread out on the bed. "Ok, I'm sorry. I only want to talk, meet me on the roof of St. Bart's in 10." Moriarty hung up and Sherlock retreated back into his room. "John can you go to the shops and get me some cocoa?" he asked politely with a pleading smile on his face. "Yeah, alright, you need anything else?" he shook his head and shut the broken door. "I'll be back in a few." He shouted as he put on his jacket and picked the money lying on the kitchen bench. Sherlock waited 5 minutes before leaving the flat, just to make sure John hadn't left anything and came back. It would only take 2 minutes to get to the hospital.

"Moriarty," Sherlock called as he stepped through the door to the roof of St. Bart's. "Ah Sherlock, you took longer than expected." Moriarty was overlooking the Farmer's Market being held across the street. Sherlock moved to stand beside him. "Well, John held me up." He excused. Moriarty turned his head slowly and took a gun out of Sherlock's pocket. "Expecting trouble, were we?" he said, he threw the gun behind him and it skidded to the other side of the roof. "Just in case," Sherlock guaranteed, still looking over the barrier. "Your sister, Olivia, was it?" Sherlock turned to face Moriarty. "Olivia, good name, I like it, shame she's dead though." Sherlock thought he heard wrong, Olivia couldn't be dead; they had seen each other only a few hours ago. "What have you done?" he asked seriously, grabbing the front of Moriarty's coat and holding him up to eye level. "Oh, I like the angry Sherlock," he laughed, Sherlock smashed his own fist square into Moriarty's nose, making a horrible cracking sound which didn't faze Sherlock's determination to kill him. "That was sore, why did you do that?" he asked, obviously unaware of the pain in Sherlock, Moriarty looked into his eyes and in a split second relied what he was feeling. "I'm sorry Sherly, I didn't know you loved her that much. I don't really care to be honest." Sherlock let him go and turned back to the railings. "Now, because there is no one left for you Sherls, kill yourself." Sherlock looked at him out of the corner of his eye, full of emotions only experience less than a handful of times. "W-What did you say?" he asked, confusedly and full of anger. "Kill yourself," Moriarty repeated, fiddling with the pockets on his jacket. "No, about having nothing to live for," his words trailed off and he hesitated. "I have John." Moriarty let out a huge sigh. "John? God, why are you even friends with him?" Moriarty looked at properly and realized. "You... You love him, don't you?" Sherlock never replied, instead he stood up on the barrier block and asked for a phone. Moriarty handed his own phone over, confused at what he was doing.

"John?" Sherlock asked to the person on the phone. "John, where are you?" he was begging for an answer. "Sherlock, is that you? I'm getting some stuff from the market, why? What do you need?" Sherlock scanned the crowd and landed eyes on his best friend looking at the products on the stalls. "I'm sorry John, I'm really sorry." Sherlock's eyes were ready to burst; John was still looking at the items. "What for?" he asked, uninterested. Sherlock put his hand over the phone, stepped off the ledge, and turned to Moriarty. "You never said why I have to kill myself." Moriarty rolled his eyes, waved his own gun in the air, and moved closer to Sherlock. "Because if you don't," he whispered as his lips brushed over Sherlock's. "I will kill the people you love most in the world." Sherlock put the phone back up to his ear. "John? Are you still there?" "Yes, Sherlock what do you need? I've got everything else." Sherlock couldn't get the words out. "John, Olivia's dead." John stood up straight and did a double take on the news he had just received. "No, she isn't, is this a joke? Not funny seriously," Sherlock climbed back on the ledge, he knew it was the only way to save his friends. "I'm on the roof of St. Bart's, John look at me." John looked around and then he saw a figure standing on the roof of the building. "Sherlock, _what the hell_ are you doing?!" John went to cross the street before Sherlock stopped him. "John, stay there, keep your eyes focused on me." John was lost for words, Sherlock continued. "This is the only way I can save you, I have to do this," John stopped him. "No, you don't have to do this, and how are you saving me?" Sherlock took a deep breath in, he was about to revile to John the most important thing ever, only known to himself and his parents. "John, Olivia is not my sister," from where John was standing, Sherlock could see a confused look on his face. "What? Then who is she?" "She's my... daughter," Deep breath in and out, in and out. "Sherlock... the hell?" he sneered. "Her mother was 19, I was 20, her mother died when she was born and my parents raised her as their own daughter and she never knew the truth and now it's too late." A single tear drop ran down Sherlock's face. "Sherlock, I'm sorry." That was all he needed, John's sympathy, Sherlock turned behind him and saw that Moriarty was gone. "John, before I do this, I need you to know something," he took another deep breath. "John, I love you." And then, before John could say anything, Sherlock hung up, chucked the phone on the ground, spread his arms wide and fell.

To John, everything felt as if they were in a movie, continuing in slow motion. Everyone on the street turned to look as the greatly famous Consulting Detective fell forwards towards the street below. Forgetting all senses, John ran towards the spot where he would collide with the slabs, but before he even got half way across the street someone on a bike knocks him down causing John to become disoriented. When John finally gets up he stumbles over to Sherlock's body were a group of passer-bys have gathered around. John pushes through, crying and shouting for his best friend, then 2 paramedics arrive and cart him away quickly and Watson is comforted by some of the people who gathered round. Suddenly John was being ushered into a taxi and on his way back to Baker Street. As soon as he got in Mrs Hudson ran up and gave him a massive hug, obviously she had heard what happened. "Oh John, I'm so sorry," John mumbled his thanks and went up to the supposedly empty flat but when he opened the door Olivia was sitting on the sofa, crying. "Olivia? But... but you're supposed to be dead!" Olivia looked round quickly. "John, oh my god, I heard about Sherlock," she sniffed loudly and wiped away the flood of tears draining down her cheeks; she stood up, moved over to John, and hesitated. "What do you mean 'I'm supposed to be dead'?" John took Olivia's arm and led her back to her seat. "Sherlock said you had died or been blown up, that's why he did it also he had something to tell you... about when you were born..." John didn't dare make eye contact, Olivia had been through hell and so had everyone Sherlock knew. "When... when I was born? I don't get it," John turned his head slowly. "You're... you're his daughter." He revealed, Olivia didn't look confused but John did at her reaction. "I already knew that, I was actually waiting for him to tell me," Olivia put a hand on top of John's. "And now... now he's gone." Olivia started crying again; John pulled her into a soft hug. They sat there together until it got dark outside and then they fell asleep.

_**Two Years Later**_

"Hey Olivia, wake up," John whispered as he walked in with Olivia's breakfast, she turned over to face him and stretched as she sat up against the pillows. "Happy Birthday!" he said as he handed the plate of food over, she smiled at him. "Thanks John, I'll eat in a minute okay? I need to get dressed." John knew where she would go today, Sherlock's grave. Olivia always went to his grave at least once or twice a month and always went on her birthday, and on Sherlock's birthday, to lay flowers for him. John smiled at her and walked out of the room. "I'll be going to work in 5 and I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight?" he shouted through, John had recently started working in his own surgery, he heard the shower head turn on. "I'm actually going out with the girls tonight but we could go out tomorrow, if that's ok?" John was fine with her going out with friends, she had struggled after Sherlock's death and it had gotten worse after the funeral and her going out was good, it meant that she was doing much better, she was also eating more, more than Sherlock used to. John took his keys out of the bowl on the table and slid his jacket on. "Right, that's me going, Liv. See you tonight." He could hear the tapping of her feet as she walked, bare-foot, across the cold hallway. "Yep, see ya later."

Olivia had heard John leave the flat so she was okay to do whatever as long as it wasn't too loud, she really didn't want Mrs Hudson snooping around, not that she wasn't grateful for her being around and checking on her after Sherlock... It was still hard to think about even speaking of it was difficult. Olivia went into depression and even became suicidal after the funeral, she began starving herself, taking drugs and drinking masses of alcohol; she even started slitting her wrists. If Mrs Hudson hadn't gone to check on her then Olivia would also be dead, John took it just as bad, and it seemed as if Mrs Hudson was the one that kept both of them here. John would never leave Olivia on her own, just in case. Olivia felt John was more like a brother than anything, and John felt as if she was his sister, it was as if they were trying to fill an empty void after their loss of Sherlock. Olivia got out of the shower, dried herself and got dressed; she took the plate of eggs and toast through to the kitchen and started eating. John makes the best scrambled eggs ever. A pile of cards, all addressed to her, sat on the middle of the table, she opened them all, looking at the lovely messages from her friends and family. One card stood out from the rest, it had her name on the inside and two words 'I'm Sorry'. That was the weirdest card in the pile, the envelope didn't have an address on it so the person delivered it by hand, she deducted, and it had to be someone she knew who personally. Olivia looked at her watch, she was running late. She slid the plate into the sink full of bubbly water, picked up her keys and left.

John was sitting behind his desk, filling out some of his patient's forms when a voice came through the intercom. "Dr. Watson? I'm about to go on my lunch break, want me to get you anything?" John put down his pen and looked at his watch, **12:07**. "No thanks Vera, see you later, oh and put the sign on the door." He replied, he heard the receptionist scrape back her chair on the wooden floorboards and then the blinds hitting the door as she left. John sat back for a moment and wondered what he would be doing if Sherlock was still here, probably hunting down Moriarty or running. His phone beeped, received message from Olivia, it read. **"Got 2 grave, home around 1 – OH"**. John sent a message back saying he would see her then and continued filling out forms. A few minutes later John heard the front door open. "Back already Vera?" he laughed, no reply. "Vera? Is that you?" John got up out of his chair and walked to the surgery door, he could hear scuffling like someone moving things about but when John opened the door there was no one there. "Hello? Anybody there?" he called out, still no reply. He looked around, files on the desk had been moved and the computer had been adjusted, the main door was ajar and the 'closed' sign had been knocked off the hook. John ran outside to see if the person had escaped to the streets, he looked left then right, no one there. "John, what are you doing?" the voice behind him made him jump, he spun around quickly. "God Vera, you scared me," he said holding his hand over his chest. Vera walked inside and looked around, just as John had done. "John, what have you been doing?" she asked as John walked up and stood behind her. "Someone broke in, well, I say 'broke in' the door was still unlocked. They must have been looking for something important." He guessed, Vera walked up to her desk and started re-arranging things, Vera is a bit OCD. "Or left something, here." She handed John an envelope with his name written on it. "Huh, thanks." He mumbled as he walked through the surgery door. John chucked the envelope on to the desk for him to open after finishing the forms, but he couldn't concentrate. He desperately wanted to know what was inside. John placed his pen carefully beside the forms which he straightened out beside him and slid the package in front of him. John tore the top off of the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of white A4 paper, there were 3 words written meticulously on it: **John, I'm Sorry – SH.** SH? Sherlock Holmes? Was this some kind of sick joke? Sherlock was dead, everyone was sure of it. John pushed a button on the intercom. "Vera, how many appointments left?" he asked. "One, doctor, why?" John looked at his notes and then at his watch, **12:24.** "Can you get them to make another appointment? Tell them I'm sick or something. I need to go." John could hear some tapping through the intercom. "Alright, done. I'll lock up." John got up and walked through to the reception desk. "Ok, see you tomorrow." He smiled at Vera and left the surgery.

Olivia is standing in front of her dad's grave with flowers in her hand, Sherlock didn't care for flowers much but Olivia liked to give something back to the man who had saved her multiple times. Although the sun is out it keeps disappearing behind the clouds and the wind picks up. The branches on the trees are waving gently and some of the leaves fall to the ground and huddle around the trunk. The only way that Olivia could cope is writing about her life and talking to Sherlock, even though he was dead and she knew he couldn't hear her but Olivia liked to think that Sherlock could still hear her. Johns way of coping was texting Sherlock's old phone even though it was broken and they had chucked it in the bucket. Olivia didn't flinch or jump when a hand was placed gently on her shoulder, she knew who it was. "I thought you were working, John." John slid his hand off of her shoulder and put his hands in his pockets. "Well I figured you would still be here and you know I don't like it when you're on your own." John looked around the graveyard, he didn't see anyone but he felt as if someone was watching them, Olivia laid the flowers down gently against the headstone. "Can you feel that?" he whispered through his teeth, Olivia made eye contact with her and realised what he meant. "Yeah, I can. We have to go, don't we?" John smiled at her, took her hand and led Olivia away from the grave; John then put an arm around Olivia's neck and walked back towards the gates. Although being suspicious, neither of them noticed a tall, thin man leaning against an old pine tree, watching them. He was dressed in a long, black trench coat with a tattered, navy blue scarf, and as the pair walked away he couldn't help but feel guilty.

Mrs Hudson was dusting the flat when they got back, she would always complain about how she was not their 'house-keeper' but helped the flat anyway. "Right tea anyone?" Mrs Hudson asked when she noticed they had come in; John shook his head and sat down to read the paper, again. "No thanks, Mrs H, I'm going to have a shower and get ready for tonight." John looked around and smiled at her as she walked down the hallway. Mrs Hudson left the room and went down to watch one of her reality shows or whatnot while John thought about where to take Olivia the next day. An hour and a half later and Olivia was ready to go. "Hey... John?" John was lying on the sofa, back to the window. "Mmm?" he mumbled. "Can I borrow some money?" she asked hopefully, John, regaining his memory, produced from his hand a £50 note. "Thanks, I am staying over at Molly's tonight as well," she was already half way down the stairs when she shouted back. "So don't wait up!" John heard the front door slam behind her and he nodded off to sleep. He woke up a while later and realised he had fallen on the floor; it was dark outside so he had been asleep for ages. He staggered over as he tried to stand up and stretch, when regaining balance he made his way to his bed and as soon as his head hit the soft, white cushion, he was out like a light, he could swear that he heard someone braking in although he was probably just imagining it.

John sat up and stretched as the morning light peeked through the curtains blinded him, John could smell burnt toast and cold tea and he could hear the gently sounds of a violin slipping into every room. Olivia must be home then, he thought, and if she was playing Sherlock's violin then she was either bored, sad or really missing her father. John kicked the duvet off of his body and chucked on his dressing gown. Yawning and stretching, John staggered into the living room and without looking up, made his way to the kitchen for his morning cup of tea. "Morning, you want some tea?" he called through to the person standing in front of the window, no reply came. Olivia was just like her father, he thought. "Olivia?" he called again, this time turning round. "Liv- You're not Olivia." He said hesitantly, eyeing the unannounced man who had come into the flat. This stranger was tall and skinny, obviously not slept well because of his stance and then there was the hair, black curls that dropped past his ears, not to long as reaching his flat shoulders. "_Excellent deduction, John_," he had heard that voice before but not for ages, the same recognizable gruff, crackled, exasperated tone and fluid movements of the man's body. No, it can't be him! He's dead, I saw him die, John screamed to himself. "W-what? No, no! You're... You're dead!" The violin was put down and the man turned, facing John for the first time and looking him in the eyes. "Well, as you can see, I'm not." John dropped to his knees in shock as the door started to open and Olivia walked in. "Hey John, I'm ba- Oh my God, John what the hell are you doing?!" She followed his gaze and saw a man standing in the middle of the room and knew who it was instantly, even if her mind couldn't register it, her heart bloody well did. "She- Sherlock?" A lump came to her throat making it hard to speak and tears welled in her eyes, she honestly couldn't believe it. John was sitting on the edge of the longer sofa with his head in his hands. "H-how? What? Am I... but you're...?" Unable to form proper words and looking like she was going to faint, Sherlock beckoned them over to sit down and listen.

"I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once Moriarty had invited me onto the roof." Sherlock is sitting across from Olivia and John with his fingers steepled under his pointy chin. "I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling ..." "You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick." John interrupted. Sherlock looked bewildered at the fact of missing something obvious. "What?" John sighed at his stupid git of a friend and wished he could punch him right in the middle of his face, but then again Olivia would probably kill him. "I don't _care_ how you faked it, Sherlock. I just wanna know _why._" A set of realization swept over Sherlock's blank face. "_Why?_ Because I had to get Moriarty." He implied like it was so obvious. John leant back and squeezed the bridge of his nose and then folded his arms. "Oh, 'Why' as in...?" he trailed off, then moved a finger from underneath his chin to point at John, who nodded. Sherlock finally got it. "I see. Yes. 'Why?' That's a little more difficult to explain." He let out an apologetic laugh. "We've got all day, Sherlock." Olivia piped up, folding her arms across her chest. "Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft's idea." He admitted nervously. "So he was the _only_ one? Nobody else knew, right?" Both of them felt like Sherlock wasn't telling them the complete truth, Olivia noticed that he was sweating and fidgety. Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a huge breath. "Molly," he finally let out and looked up, Olivia scrunched her face. "Molly? Molly Hooper, the pathologist?" Sherlock nods and then adds. "And _some_ of the Homeless Network," John sits up a little and takes a deep breath, looking round the room and still not believing what is happening to them. "Okay, so just your brother, and Molly, and about a hundred tramps?" Sherlock chuckles. "No! Twenty-five at the most," At that point John made to stand up, walk over and slap him but before he could even move Olivia put her arm across his chest so he couldn't do anything. "Don't, let me do something first." She hissed out the corner of her mouth, Olivia stood up and leant against Sherlock's arm-chair. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Hm? I was in a psychiatric ward for almost 4 months; I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression for gods' sakes!" Her voice was getting louder every time she started a new sentence, telling Sherlock a new fact. "I was killing myself slowly, I started doing drugs, starving myself, I wouldn't even leave the flat for days at a time, how do think I feel?" Olivia slowly and carefully rolled up her sleeves, unveiling old scars and fresh cuts; John was shocked at the amount of new scars she had collected. "Olivia, you _promised_ me you'd stop..." Olivia looked over at him and supplied an apologetic look. "I know what I said, I'm really sorry but I had too much pressure piled on me and I needed relief." Sherlock couldn't believe this was happening; his daughter had been abusing herself because he had 'died'. "One word! That's all, one word to let us know you were safe! I'm going to go sleep," she mumbled coarsely as she stumbled over to her bedroom door, Sherlock inspected his watch. "But it's ten in the morning!" Olivia shut her door, not wanting to talk anymore as she had been having a good birthday up until that happened. "Sherlock, she was out all night," Sherlock took his gaze away from the closed door and looked suspiciously at John. "Why?" he queried. How thick could he possibly be that he forgot his own daughter's birthday? John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "It was her birthday, I can't believe you sometimes." He jumped over the sofa and made his way to the door. "John, I-" He was half way out the door, and stopped, he couldn't face Sherlock, not after what had happened. "Don't Sherlock, I've moved on." And with that, John has disappeared from view and slammed the door on the way out, leaving a man with his head in his hands, alone in a cold room with nothing to do except rethink everything he had done and all the lives he has possibly snapped in half.


End file.
